Last Sunday, we were in Kauai, standing above Waimea canyon, just as it was starting to rain, chasing boys, making sure they didn’t (unintentionally or not) slip down between the railings. Even as we turned for the car because the rain grew heavier, the sun still lay gently on the canyon, from its edges to its depths, and down its many layers, green, red and gold, with white birds wheeling along its sides.
We hiked down into the canyon as well, the four of us, congratulated by several couples who remarked, “We would have never taken our kids down here!” Not only did our kids go down there, but Lincoln walked the whole two miles, in ankle deep mud, over tree roots and rocks, and beside steep drops. And when we were back up and done, he turned around and exclaimed excitedly, “Let’s go down and do it again now!”
Such a strange sight, this canyon, surrounded by some red, barren ground, but in places covered by such green it takes my breath away. Some people say Mark Twain called this the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific”, but some say that he never said that, never saw it, and was never here. Regardless, that’s what it is. I have been to both canyons now, and while the Arizona version is beautiful because of its sheer vastness, and its red and gold variations, this one shows off green forests next to its layers, and waterfalls in its corners.
As we hiked down, we heard the mountain goats, and Eliot, who was in the backpack on Joe’s back, got cut once by the thick green tropical leaves when Joe didn’t duck soon enough. We were headed to the waterfall, but only made it to the look-out, which was steep enough to make Joe panic about Lincoln’s determined desire to ‘find the goats’ on the sheer cliffs.
We expected to come home and spend a few days (or a week) recovering from our pushing everyone past their limits, including ourselves. We needed some time to get back to normal after no one slept for days. But instead Lincoln got sick, then Eliot, then Joe, then me, and then Eliot again.
Instead of spending our Sunday exploring winding cliff paths, two days ago on Sunday Joe and I lay on the couch, with periodic runs to the bathroom to get sick, trying to shut out the crying of bored and still half-sick boys, who were used to far better parenting then we had been able to provide that day.
And we all had to spend a lot of time doing whatever we could to survive; sleeping with Eliot on top of us, relying on friends, and eating nothing but crackers because it was the only thing that tasted good.
Today I’m grateful for (almost) healthy people and for enough variation in life to go from different islands and new places one weekend, to laying down on old couches, grumpy and overwhelmed, in the next weekend. To go from the rainy top of the canyon and adventuring through the Pacific on one Sunday to using every ounce of energy we had to get, drink, and keep down some water on the next Sunday.
Knee deep in mud or sickness, sometimes it seems like an easy weekend doesn’t exist around here.
But let’s go do it again now, shall we?
[…] we were in Kauai, for the first time we tried a trail that pretty much required Lincoln to walk. We brought a carrier for each of the boys, but considering the fact that carrying one of them for […]